Kathleen Kirkwood & Anita Gordon - Heart series (39 page)

The Imperial spies would be watching for those who sought to flee, while reinforced guards
— both Varangian and Byzantine — would protect those in the procession. Aside from their leader, they would seek all those who wore the “sign of the scorpion.”

For a second time the trap had been baited, Lyting reflected. But now it contained not only himself but Ailinn, the child emperor, and his mother. He liked it not at all. Now they must wait for the scorpion to strike, and the spider to spin out its entrapping threads.

High excitement filled the
gynaekeion
as the women prepared the bride for her groom.

To Ailinn, it seemed she was being carried on the swift currents of a great river, moving
rapidly toward the appointed hour when she would become Lyting’s wife.

She reminded herself for an
endless time ‘twould not be a real marriage. But that did little to quiet the fluttery entities that had taken up residence in her stomach.

Two evenings past, after the tumult in the throne room, Lyting visited her at the
gynaekeion
. He explained they would need to be separated while preparations were made for the wedding. ‘Twas forbidden for the bridal couple to see each other during that time.

Ailinn
’s spirits had plummeted at the thought, but she didn’t miss the tension that visibly ran through him, nor the lines that appeared periodically between his brows. He withheld something. But what?

Before leaving the women
’s quarters, Lyting had assured her once more that all would be set aright. By direction of the empress, a ship was being readied for their voyage home, to leave eight days hence after the week of celebrations following their wedding.

Ailinn had not seen Lyting since. Now her hours were filled with waiting and haunted by a hollowness that only his presence could satisfy. She looked eagerly to being rejoined
with him this day. Though they would share a chamber for the coming week, ostensibly as man and wife, and though it might pose a far greater trial than now, she far preferred that to this time of separation.

She whisked her glance about, bringing herself back to the sumptuousness and fervor that surrounded her. Precious stuffs draped the walls of the bridal chamber
— rich satins and brocades, trimmed with gilded cordings. The ladies flitted about in various states of dress as they were bathed, massaged, and adorned for the evening.

While servants groomed Ailinn
’s hands and feet, Ariana detailed to her the myriad aspects of the ceremonies to come and recounted the marvelous things Constantine had arranged for herself and Lyting. The emperor intended this to be the most glorious of ceremonies for his new friends.

“
Archbishop Theodore will marry you,” Ariana informed, then lowered her voice. “The empress refused to consider the Patriarch, Nicholas Mysticus. They are adversaries, you know. Euphemius, the ex-Patriarch whom she does favor, is in seclusion at his monastery. Therefore, Archbishop Theodore will perform the rites.”

Ailinn blinked at the apologetic tone in the girl
’s explanation. “Ariana, I assure you I am quite honored that the archbishop will preside.”

Ariana smiled.
“The matter of the church was much debated. The Hagia Sophia was deemed too immense for what the emperor intends, and the Hagia Eirene too stark. ‘Tis an iconoclast church,” she added without clarification as though the word
iconoclast
was explanation enough.

“
His Majesty next suggested the Church of Sergius and Bacchus, for ‘tis lavish in its decorations and is easily accessible, here on the palace grounds.” A perplexed look stole across her features. “Oddly, ‘tis the very reason ‘twas rejected. The Council — even the empress — insisted the procession pass out of the palace enclosure for a short distance — for the enjoyment of the populace — they said.”

The fine hairs lifted on Ailinn
’s arms. She thought again of Lyting’s visit and the disturbing feeling that he withheld something.

“
Where will the wedding take place, Ariana?”

“
Saint Euphemia’s. It stands on the side opposite the Hippodrome and contains some of the most beautiful mosaics in the city.”

Ariana crimped a brow, winnowing her thoughts for what she might have forgotten, then brightened.

“A choir, comprising members of the Blue and Green factions, will accompany the procession in song as they escort you to the church. Such is usually provided for emperors on their wedding day, but His Majesty has brought it about especially for you and Lyting.”

“
Truly, I am grateful,” Ailinn replied, secretly glad Ariana could not read the worry that surely filled her eyes. Lyting’s mission concerned the safety of the Imperial family. Why then would the procession leave the security of the palace enclosure? And could not an escort of these factions conceal enemies to the crown? Urgently she wished to speak with Lyting.

“
‘Tis time we see you prepared,” Ariana announced happily. “At sunset Lyting will come to claim you for his bride.”

The thought
sent ripples of warmth trilling through Ailinn. But as she rose, Xenia appeared, cooling the sensation.

The woman
smiled, her eyes shining darkly as she slipped her hand into the folds of her gown and withdrew a crystal vial, fitted with a bright silver closure.

“
Xenia brings a wedding gift — precious jasmine oil. ‘Tis her own blend,” Ariana informed Ailinn. “She says that men love the scent. Rurik did.”

Ailinn
met Xenia’s gaze, surprised by the last comment.

“
Jasmine stirs a man’s ardor.” Ariana continued to render Xenia’s words. “You will wish to stir Lyting’s this night. When you have finished your bath, the servants will massage the oils into your skin, softening you beautifully while wrapping you in its fragrance. The perfume will linger through the hours and still perfume your skin when you lay in your husband’s arms.”

The light
altered in Xenia’s eyes, giving Ailinn pause.

“
Rurik liked the scent of jasmine?” Ailinn asked, finding the woman a puzzle.

Xenia
’s eyes glowed with memory.

“
‘Twas once Helena’s favorite scent,” Ariana translated literally. “Ever she wore it for him. Even as she lay dying, she insisted on our applying the fine oils so Rurik might find her pleasing. The scent of jasmine lingered about her even as we laid her to rest in her sepulcher. Some say it lingers there still.”

Xenia
’s words sent a chill through Ailinn.

“
I noticed no fragrance while there the other night.”

Xenia
’s brows rose a fraction as she received the words through the child. The light changed in her eyes once again, and her lips curved with a smile.

“‘
Tis only a story that bides,” Ariana repeated for Xenia. “Since you know the brothers Atlison, I thought ‘twould interest you. But enjoy the jasmine. ‘Tis an exquisite scent. Lyting will long remember its potency.”

As the girl
completed the translation, Xenia gave over the crystal, turned, and glided away.

“
I am truly sorry, Ailinn.” Ariana reached out and placed a concerned hand on Ailinn’s arm. “Xenia should not speak of death on your wedding day.”

“
I’m sure she did not think of it that way.” Ailinn did not betray her unease as she fingered the vial. She could not be with Lyting soon enough.

Just then the ladies-in-waiting came forward in two columns and surrounded Ailinn, smiles wreathing their faces. Each wore spotless white gowns, and their hair was caught up
identically — parted at the center and wound into plump rolls encased in jeweled silk nets. Golden circlets sat above their straight brows, each affixed with a star-shaped diadem.

“
‘Tis time to prepare you for your husband,” Ariana said brightly.

Ailinn lay the vial on the small table beside her, then allowed the women to conduct her to the sunken pool. There she gave over her towel and entered the heated waters. A lute sounded in the background, and the women began to sing as they lined the pool and strewed petals over the water.

Ailinn realized that this, too, like most aspects of Byzantine life in the palace, was to be ensconced in ritual. She sank deeper into the water, relishing the extravagance as her thoughts went to Lyting.

Sometime later Ailinn emerged from the waters, feeling marvelously relaxed and
refreshed. The women wrapped her in towels and led her to a cushioned bench for her massage.

Ariana returned to the table to retrieve the jasmine oil. As her fingers moved over the top, she found naught but the squat jars of cosmetics. The vial was gone. She bid over a servant who quickly scanned the room for her and answered her questions.

“Comita,” Ariana fumed. When the servant apprised that Xenia was also absent, Ariana instructed for her personal tray of oils to be brought. Rejoining Ailinn, she explained the vial’s disappearance with great regret and offered her own preparations.

“‘
Tis not precious jasmine but a delicate floral blend that you will hopefully find pleasing. Comita has slipped away and is hiding somewhere, but she shall be punished, I promise you.”

Recalling her horrid experience in the forum, Ailinn feared the servant might be dealt with harshly.

“Mayhap we should forgive this one transgression. After all, ‘tis my wedding day.” Ailinn stretched out so the servants could begin applying the perfumed oils. “Let us not spoil the day with such matters.”

Subsequently, when the servants finished their ministrations, the ladies-in-waiting led Ailinn to an elegant silver table. There, one had been selected to enhance the bride
’s face with cosmetics with the others gathered to advise.

Ailinn allowed only a light touch
— just enough kohl to bring out her eyes and a trace of color on her lips. She refused the proffered drops of belladonna. ‘Twas meant to contract the pupils of her eyes to small dots, like theirs. She did not find it becoming and held firm against it.

Next they dressed her hair. Ailinn
’s dark auburn tresses were allowed to flow freely as a symbol of her virginity. Only the sides were swept back from her face and woven with strands of pearls.

The women then bid her rise and stand upon a small stool. The ladies-in-waiting brought forth the extravagant wedding garments, presenting each piece to the bride and then dressing her in it.

First came the
stola
, an undergown made of lustrous emerald-green silk with long, close-fitting sleeves. Deep borders of costly embroideries embellished the sleeves and hem. Over this they added a sumptuous tunic, constructed of a richly patterned brocade, stiffer than most fabrics, for ‘twas woven with threads of pure gold and garnished with a profusion of gemstones — rubies, sapphires, and emeralds, adorning it with lavish abandon so that the garment was one of dazzling splendor, shining like a field of brilliant flowers. On her feet they placed jeweled sandals.

No sooner had the women finished dressing Ailinn than the empress
Zoë entered the bridal chamber unexpectedly, joining her women there.

Ailinn forgot the lavishness of her own dress, for to see
Zoë was to see sheer majesty in splendor. She moved regally beneath her heavy gown — a deep, magnificent purple silk, emblazoned with gold, silver, and jewels. The edge of her mantle bore the
tablion
, a large square encrusted with a profusion of gems and marking her Imperial rank as the Augusta. About her shoulders and neck she wore the
manilas,
the great jeweled collar, and on her head a priceless crown with cascades of pearls flowing downward over her shoulders.

All the women began to sink to the floor, but the empress stayed them, especially the bride, who still stood on the stool.

When the servants aided Ailinn down, Zoë kissed her on both cheeks. She then gifted Ailinn with a pair of fine gold filigree earrings. Ailinn thanked her, setting the earrings to her ears.

From outside came a medley of male voices, lifted in song.

“They approach!” Ariana exclaimed. “The wedding procession brings your groom, Ailinn.”

The women moved to where the doors opened onto the balcony but remained slightly back so as not to be seen. Below, scores of torches capered above the men
’s heads, licking back the shadows of evening and illuminating those of the procession. All, save the groom, wore snowy-white garments.

Ailinn
’s heart began to beat solidly, her pulse accelerating, as her eyes alighted on the tall, handsome figure striding in their midst. He towered above the rest, his bright head shining, a sapphire-blue mantle swathing his broad shoulders.

Joy welled, rich and warm, deep in Ailinn
’s soul. It rose to overflowing and engulfed her heart.

“
Lyting,” she whispered on a soft breath. However briefly, he was destined to be her husband and she his wife, the fullness of that thought astounded her. The promise it contained, were circumstances otherwise, sent heat shimmering through her.

As though hearing her voice, Lyting lifted his face to the women crowded at the balcony, his eyes questing for her. Quickly the women drew Ailinn back and covered her with a filmy white veil that reached well past her knees in front and drifted to the floor behind.

“Come,” Ariana said excitedly. “ ‘Tis time to receive your groom.”